


A Handful of Truths

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beyond the anger and the arguments, Bittersweet, Ficlet, Future Fic, M/M, When all you want is for them to touch a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some distant future, they come together in slow steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Handful of Truths

“Hannibal”

The other stops his motion as the word sounds through the kitchen, knife in mid chop, a pause and its set aside with a touch of reluctance. Will is almost sorry to have interrupted the rhythms, but he doesn’t turn and skirt away as he’s been prone to of late. Watches the slow squaring of shoulders, the tightening of a jaw, as Hannibal tilts his gaze up in inches to look back at him. The calm of the dinner routine shelved away. Not impatient, he’s been nothing but the show of that particular trait of late, virtue, Will’s lips curl a little, but there’s a wary edge, a dancing disgruntlement in the curve of his lips, just past the blank presentation of neutral. 

Most phrases that have begun with, _Hannibal,_ have not ended particularly kindly.

A great many, truthful, syllables have passed between them and the thin, thin, thinning of lips in response, in place of other things, sharp things, and painful things. Will wears the swords now. But how can he allow the trust if he can’t push? He shouldn’t trust at all, but he’s capable, evidently, so if he’s going to admit that to them both, he has to shove at it, force it to its edge and see if this time it’ll hold. 

And he’s managed that admirably.

But in the waning shadows of sunset, amidst the sizzle of what is thankfully, actually, lamb, and the brush of wind from the open window, the cyprus trees spicy in the wind, he’s found a different sort of truth. And truth is what he’s promised to give. Weeks ago he might have tucked it away, withheld it in fear or pettiness or both.

Now though - 

He wanders over, the heaviness of tired eyes following him, the creature somewhere lurking, the man tangled up, and Hannibal before him. Reaches out in careful crossing, fingers pressing over fingers, finding skin. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

A murmur and a squeeze. The walls retreat an inch, but whose he can’t say exactly.

It shouldn’t please him. 

But it does.


End file.
